


Betray Me Once

by Vaecordia



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 1930s, Historical, Historical References, League of Nations, M/M, Not my political views, References to politics, Soviet Union, mentions of nazism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 20:44:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10624815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vaecordia/pseuds/Vaecordia
Summary: He'll blame it on the late hour. He'll blame it on the memories. He won't blame it on feelings (feelings that no longer should exist). (implied, past) RusAme, Historical Hetalia, 1934. (Prompt: "Don't you know the cost of your betrayal?")





	

September 19, 1934

The meeting room is eerily quiet after hours. There's the remnants of their earlier conference - a forgotten, emptied pen; scrap pieces of paper; empty glasses of water. From the tall windows, a gentle moonlight streams into the newly built room. It isn't even ten years old, and yet its walls hold the weight of centuries of war. Should those walls fold, Europe would once more be thrown back into the midst of violence.

It isn't the standard meeting room of the Assembly - it's a smaller room, more often used by the Council (like it was today). It wasn't to say that Ivan had attended many such meetings - in fact, this was his first one. But he saw little difference between this meeting and the usual squabbling of the nations in ballrooms and war rooms. He lounges in one of the comfortable chairs, thumbing absentmindedly a pen in his hand. He's enjoying the quietness, the silence that has overcome the room that was mere hours ago a centre of noise and near-chaos.

And that silence is abruptly shattered by the soft click of the door when it slides out of place, and it's followed by the same click when it swings back. Ivan turns, ready to meet the new arrival - a wandering nation, or a member of the nighttime security. But little in the world could have prepared him to confront Alfred F. Jones.

Their eyes lock, and they hold for an elongated minute. It's Alfred who breaks away first, shifting uncomfortably on his feet.

"Oh, um, sorry - didn't know you were gonna be here, guess I just had the same idea as you. I'll just,... I'll just go." He stumbles awkwardly across the world - he has no idea where else to go, he didn't have another plan, but it's too complex for him to stay here. Too much has happened, too much that hasn't been dealt with. Ivan sees the emotions that flaw Alfred's soft blue eyes into a whirlwind, and he knows his eyes are troubled as well. He remembers golden days spent amidst a thousand suns, silken grass and a wispy blue sky. Alfred is turned away, hand on the doorknob, and Ivan knows he should let him leave and go somewhere else.

He'll blame it on the late hour. He'll blame it on the memories. He won't blame it on feelings (feelings that no longer should exist).

"No, it is fine," Ivan says, his voice steady despite the lack of thought behind the words. "You can stay."

There's a silence, and neither of them move, each thinking over how wrong the situation feels already.

"Right." Alfred straightens back, his hand dropping away from the door, and he's looking fleetingly at Ivan. "Thanks." He shifts again, from one foot to another, before he looks down and toes at some invisible thing on the floor. Ivan continues looking at him, even when his gaze lifts and he looks around the room.

Alfred then begins walking, his walk uncertain and afraid. He stops in front of the window, not completely turning his back to Ivan. It's either a show of trust or distrust, but neither can decide which. Ivan sees Alfred's worn state, illuminated by the bleak moonlight. The lines under his eyes drive deep, and there's hints of heavy shadows near them. The suit is probably five, maybe ten years old, permanent creases having formed on it already - despite probably many attempts to iron it. When he shifts his face and the hollow light catches his glasses just right, Ivan sees a few scratches on them. Alfred's hands come up subconsciously to smoothe out his tie, a tie Ivan last saw twenty years earlier. He can see that Alfred is struggling, just like his scrambling nation. Ivan can't help but wonder what Alfred is doing here, in a foreign place where he doesn't belong, instead of back in his country to try and get it back on its feet.

"Why are you here?"

Alfred doesn't react for a moment, lost in thought. Then, his head turns to him for a moment, eyes surprised and confused, before he realises Ivan asked him a question. "Sorry, what?"

"Why are you here?" Ivan repeats, his voice soft. A frown begins to edge on his face, at the sight of the nation acting so unlike his usual self.

"Oh... Jus' visiting. Never been here, so now's as good a time as any," Alfred answers, his eyes staring unseeingly out the window. The moon casts a pale light on him, that makes him look both more young and more frail than ever.

"It has been fifteen years since the League has been set up. Why now?" There's something unsaid in the air, and Ivan wants to know what it is.

Alfred releases a breathy laugh. "I thought you of all people would have come here for some peace an' quiet."

"I did," Ivan admits. "But you're here, and I know that there is no valid reason for you to be here now, if ever."

Alfred frowns, lines dredging his face. "What do you mean? Now's as good a time as any." He turns fully to Ivan, but his eyes are examining the room. He finally meets Ivan's gaze, and it's steady. "Jus' because I'm not in the League doesn't mean I don't keep up with what happens."

Ivan raises an eyebrow, before giving a soft 'ah' of understanding. "You wanted to see if it was true, that I really had been admitted into it."

Alfred doesn't answer. He doesn't need to.

"I can tell you the meetings are nothing very interesting. It's just the same squabbling as it has always been."

Alfred huffs. "That's exactly what I wanted to avoid. I thought this would... this could help. But apparently," Alfred shoots Ivan a look, "it didn't."

"There's nothing to help, Alfred, this is how nations have always been and will always be. If war happens, it will happen - it can't be prevented by some miracle solution, as much as you would like to believe it. You should realise this already - you've partaken in enough wars yourself," Ivan says, an edge in his voice.

There's a moment's silence, before Alfred walks into an empty chair across from Ivan. He sighs, running a hand over his face. He's tired, he's drained like his economy. Ivan should be gloating, but he isn't. It's too late in the night, and they don't want to start an argument here, now. He doesn't have much to gloat about, anyway.

"I'm sorry about it, Ivan," Alfred says, his voice thin, finding the words hard to pronounce. "I'm sorry. It was over ten years ago, can we just-"

"We haven't spoken since," Ivan says, stiffly, regret and memories flooding his mind with streaming red and puffs of black and pain.

Alfred pauses, and it's as if he hasn't noticed it before. "I... meant to speak to you."

Ivan shrugs. "Had you come to me earlier, I might have been tempted to bash your teeth in."

"What did you expect me to do?" Alfred fires, too tired and exasperated and stressed and worn out to care about civilities. "Your government, out of nowhere, gets overthrown by another one that no-one knows anything about, one that seems a helluva lot more hostile than you Tsars were, and what do you expect us to do? Side by-"

"I expected you to side by me, or not at all!" Ivan shoots straight back, an anger that's built up over ten years resurfacing. "I expected you to give my people and me a chance. I expected you to give my government - that represented my _people -_ the benefit of the doubt, as you say. I expected you to do what I did, so long ago, when you fought for your freedom!" Ivan shakes his head. "I stood aside and let you and Arthur brawl it out, but not once did I pick a side. I could have accepted the British _Empire's_ very generous offer for territories and very rich trade, but I did not - because you seemed like you had potential to be powerful, but different. Different from the European powers like Arthur, like Francis, like _me_ , even." Ivan turns his gaze away from Alfred. "And yet, a hundred and fifty years later, I am met with the same imperialistic egocentricity that I've dealt with only too much."

"Ivan, that's not-" Alfred defends himself, but with defenses he doesn't have.

"That's exactly what it was and is, Alfred. You betrayed me, and you're now living with that decision. You refused to meet me halfway to even try and work things out with my new government, you refused to try and give me a chance, you were simply too centered on your own interests to care about me."

Alfred's face hardens, his eyes turning colder. "Do you want to know why I'm here?" Alfred straightens up in his chair and faces Ivan directly. "Yes, I heard you were here. Yes, I wanted to see if you'd really been accepted into the League. Yes, I wanted to see what it was like, here, a place that was my idea but that I didn't see through. But I also wanted to see how you were faring. Ivan, I know about the famine, and you can't be fully recovered from that. It's been only-"

"-an entire year, which is ample time to recover from it. I am fine," Ivan says, though he knows that even if he isn't completely back to his usual, he is in a much better position than Alfred. "But how can you worry about me, when you have your own people to worry about? Last time I heard, your economy collapsed - as did the whole world's. Have you seen what's happened to Arthur? Or Francis? They don't feel very well these days. Today, at the meeting, I found their arguing tired. Have you seen Ludwig, on the other hand? He has a new head of state now, and he seems able to handle power and he is very persuasive. Have you heard of the purge that happened there? Have you seen the suppression of political freedom that happens there? Or do you not worry about it, seeing as you are in no shape to do so, or because National Socialism is more fitting to your policies?" Ivan sneered, and saw the stunned look on Alfred's face.

Alfred takes a breath, but ends up coughing instead. It lasts a moment, the only sound the jerky coughs of the American. He then faces Ivan once again, this time with determination in his eyes. "You think I don't know what's going on? You think I can't see how the rest of the world is struggling because of me? You think I'm what, blind?" Alfred laughs. Ivan can feel the pain of a million penniless people coursing through Alfred, the weight of every country in the world but a few beating down on his shoulders. "This might be news to ya, but I ain't. I can see very clearly what's happening here, but as you said, I have my own worries to deal with. And yes, if you want the whole truth, yes, Ivan," Alfred snarls. "Yes, Ludwig's new policies are a lot more favourable to me and everyone else than your international communist revolution organisation, because frankly, Hitler isn't trying to cause National Socialist revolutions halfway across the globe. What he does in his own country is not my problem-"

"It was in 1918!"

"It no longer is, because I have my own damn country to worry about! My people are suffering, and I'm not willing to ignore it like you!" Ivan scoffs, but Alfred ignores him. "And if you haven't noticed, I've left you to your own damn self for quite a long enough time, so don't come blaming me for whatever problems your sick boss is causing your country! And last year, when I recognised you as a country, even my ambassador concluded that you're all fucking crazy! So don't blame me for not trusting you, for not being on your side, and for caring about my own country!"

"How long will your isolationism last, Alfred? Will it end once your friends are threatened, or only when your assets and interests are?"

Alfred flared. "It will end the day that I find it suitable to. Meanwhile, I can see that there is absolutely no reason why I should be speaking to you, or apologising to you about anything - you've become twisted, and I can only say that I hope you can save yourself from whatever threat it is you see in front of you. Because I sure as hell won't." Alfred stands to leave. "If I betrayed you once, then it can't be betrayal to leave you this time. Good-bye, Soviet Union." He is standing, and he makes his way to the door.

"I cannot say I am surprised," Ivan says finally, his voice light with laughter - he laughs, because he knows that if he doesn't he might _feel_. He doesn't want to feel. He wants to be numb. He wants the suns to die, the grass to freeze, the sky to darken.

Alfred stops with his hand on the doorknob, but when he turns there's a dark look in his eyes.

"Good-bye, America," Ivan adds, and he sees the way Alfred tenses, before the door is opened and slammed shut.

It really would be entertaining to see how long Alfred would be paying the cost of his betrayal, that Ivan was sure to remember for a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> Historical notes:
> 
> \- The Russian Civil War was a war fought between the Russian White Movement (Tsarists and supporters of the Empire) and the Bolsheviks. However, an Allied intervention was a major part in it, and the Western countries sided with the Whites. This is one of the early causes of deteriorated relations between the USSR and western countries, because of the distrust that settled quickly into the new government.
> 
> \- The League Of Nations is kind of like the modern UN, except that though it was an American idea and the treaty for it was signed in 1918 and it was set up in 1921, the US never joined due to its government entering a policy of isolationism (your problems are yours, not mine). At its beginning, the League was weak, and its best hope of maintaining peace (as it had no army) was world opinion, and the willingness of countries of the world to stay in line. In the 1930s, what with worry over failing economies, countries began to turn towards themselves and away from the League, and thus began its downfall that culminated in the outbreak of WWII.
> 
> \- The Famine referred to here is the Great Famine of 1932-1933, even worse than the famine of 1921 as a whole but less so if counting only Russia. (Total death toll of '21 was 5mil, while that of '32-'33 was of 7-10mil in Ukraine, but a few million in Russia.)
> 
> \- The Great Depression started in 1929 after the Wall Street Crash or Black Tuesday caused in America years of economic depression and recession, with unemployment reaching record highs (if you've read Of Mice And Men or Grapes Of Wrath, you have a good idea what it was like). The crash caused reverberations across the entire world, especially in countries like Germany who had received such tremendous loans from America that the entire country depended on them. The loans were recalled, and the countries found themselves penniless - one of the reasons why Hitler came to power.
> 
> \- The Soviet Union was admitted into the League Of Nations on September 18, 1934. The next day, the 82nd League Security Council meeting started, to which participated the Soviet Union (as far as I could gather from the internet, aka my best source aside from my half-useless history books).
> 
> \- "communist revolution organisation" refers to COMINTERN - Communist International, that had relations with communist parties around the world, providing them support etc. You might see why it doesn't please countries like America.
> 
> \- Yes, Hitler's policies were much more liked in the West than Soviet ones were. Especially when Hitler began speaking of invading the Soviet Union, the West was mostly willing to let his other ideas and policies slide because of the possible fall of the USSR, a threat that had loomed only too long in the East. The US and USSR became allies after 1941 only on the basis of "my enemy's enemy is my friend". At this point, the USSR sees Hitler very much as a threat, hence why they joined the LoN, while other Western countries simply don't see any reason to care about him.


End file.
